


We Should Ride

by elwon



Series: Canon AU's [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham City Garage (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biker Gang Leader Jason, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied Poly Dick, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Thief Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: What Dick told Kara at the bar was all true, but it was only half the story.“Dickie, Dickie, you gotta stop telling people that.”“Why? Ashamed you got outrode?”“Because you always leave the best part out, Pretty Boy. What happenedafteryou ran away.”





	We Should Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Lurk by The Neighbourhood.  
> Suggested listening: Lurk by the Neighbourhood and Passenger by Deftones

Jason’s coming back from returning his jug to the bar when he overhears a very familiar voice telling a very familiar tale. He wonders what poor soul Dick’s trying to impress today, so he wanders over to the wide, round booth, and stands behind him as he finishes telling his story.

“So that’s it. I’m _surrounded_ by Hoods. Haven’t seen that much red since the _Quinzel Riots_. I’m the definition of dead meat. And this one at the head of the pack, he’s gaining on me with eyes ready to kill. It’s Jason Todd - - you know, the lifer? The kid raised in the gang?” Dick takes a sip of his drink while his companion nods. “So anyway, he’s the kind of scum that thinks _scum_ is a compliment. But he can ride. So you know what I do?”

“No?” Dick’s companion looks up and sees Jason looming there with a wolfish grin. Her amusement turns unsure as Jason stands there and stares pointedly. Dick, stupidly, doesn’t notice. You’d think he’d pay more attention when he’s trying to pick a girl up, but maybe it really is for show.

“I ride _better_ , outride every hog those douchebags ever chopped.” Dick finishes, smug and confident as he takes another drink.

“Wow. That’s... impressive.” Dick’s companion of the night says nervously, as she realises that Jason’s the guy that Dick’s been talking about.

“Dickie, Dickie, you gotta stop telling people that story.” Jason says loudly, making Dick startle and twist around to stare up at him. Dick’s companion takes the opportunity to scarper off, proving that she’s entirely too smart for the pretty boy.

“Why?” Dick smirks, practically daring Jason to retaliate. “Ashamed you got outrode?” 

“Because you always leave the best part out, Pretty Boy. What happened _after_ you ran away.” Jason leers, leaning down to trail a finger down Dick’s cheek. Dick’s eyes widen, the pupils blown out by the memory. “But I guess it _has_ been a while and you need a reminder... Meet me out back in ten or you’ll regret it.”

***

After a minute or two of going through all the keys on the wall rack of the ‘office’ of the old warehouse the Club uses as a chop shop, Jason finally finds the ones he’s been looking for and picks up the keys to the old boss’ bike, the one that now belongs to his second, planning on taking it into the repair shop to finally get that peeling paint job fixed, since the bastard’s been told more than once it needs redoing and Jason’s not gonna wait for him to get off his ass and do it any longer. Pulling on his red and black jacket, named so there is no confusion over which jacket belongs to which guy, Jason slips the keys into his pocket, fastens both his guns in his two leg holsters and he downs the dregs of his cheap beer while scratching through his stubble. He really should fit in a shave one of these mornings.

He heads outside when he hears a clank come from the fenced yard. He knows his gang are all in the bar in the second warehouse in the Red Hood Motorcycle Club base, drinking themselves stupider, making a nuisance of themselves and starting fights, just like they always do. No one should be in the yard this time of night, not with the strong high gates locked and barricaded tight. Except, as he looks over, the gate’s wide open to the world. Not good. The cold desert breeze smells of sand, gas, and smoke from the fire barrels dotted around the empty yard, lined by his trailer and the other trailers and shacks for his men to sleep in. From the corner of his eye, over by the rows of bikes, cars and trucks, Jason spots movement, black leather in the dark shadows flashed with tan skin? Looks like they have themselves an intruder.

Jason drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet and grinds it out with his heel. You don’t fuck with the Red Hood M.C and get away with it. You don’t steal from them either. Not if you don’t wanna get turned into roadkill quick. The thief is leaning over Jason’s second’s bike. No one could accuse Jason of being stealthy – he’s too used to being reckless, with a reputation of playing with his toys till they break – but he manages to creep up on the thief closer than Jason thought he’d manage to.

He looms over the guy, who is dressed head to toe in tight black leather, and if Jason gives him a more than appreciative look over from behind, well, no one’s to know, right? The thief spins on the spot, finding Jason right there and a brief flicker of panic widens the bright blue eyes in his pretty, pretty face, before it settles into a sleazy grin, flicking his soft dark hair out of his eyes invitingly. Jason raises an eyebrow and rests his hands on his guns, threateningly.

“Well, I heard the Red Hoods had some _nice_ rides, but no one mentioned you, Handsome...” Pretty Boy tries to be charming and seductive and if Jason had met him in the bar, they’d probably be heading out back already. Unfortunately for Pretty Boy, Jason caught him red handed trying for one of his gangs bikes, so the flirting falls flat.

“Jason Todd. And those nice rides are staying ours, Pretty Boy.” Jason glares, and Pretty Boy blinks in surprise. Jason guesses with a face and body like that, wearing no shirt under his jacket so that his cut abs and inked chest are on display for all to see, that he’s not used to his charm not working.

“Oh, you’re the _boss_ , the lifer kid raised in the gang, right? And I go by Nightwing, actually...” Pretty Boy says, taking a step closer to Jason, and lifting a hand to shift Jason’s shoulder pad and trail his fingers down the zip of Jason’s jacket.

“Yeah, I am. What’s it to you?” Jason grabs his wrist and squeezes with his red gloved hand, hard. “And if you think I care about your name, Pretty Boy, you’re wrong.”

“I think you will, Handsome, especially after this.” Nightwing smirks, leaning forward and sealing his lips over Jason’s. Jason eyes widen with shock. In the chill night air, Nightwing’s lips are soft and warm against his, his breath gentle against Jason’s cheek. Despite himself, Jason leans into the kiss, his free hand finding a resting place on Nightwing’s hip. Nightwing moans, hands slipping down over Jason’s chest, seemingly really into it. It’s been a while since Jason kissed anyone. The stresses of running a gang in this world keep him busier than he’d like and he’s been through all the single girls in the bar already. Jason lets his eyes slip shut even though he knows it’s a bad idea, lets Nightwing suck his tongue into his mouth and run the tip of his tongue on the underside of Jason’s. Just for a few seconds he’s gonna let himself enjoy this. It’s not going anywhere after all.

Nightwing pulls away from him, shit-eating grin clear on his face. He twists out of Jason’s pleasantly dazed grip and vaults onto the nearby bike, sliding the keys he’s stolen out of Jason’s pocket into the ignition and gunning the bike into a 180 to face the gate.

“Well, this has been fun, but I got to be going now. Ciao!” He calls after his shoulder as he drives out of the compound, and Jason sees red. He yells for everyone to get their asses outside right now, ducking back inside quickly to grab the keys to his own bike and give chase to the pretty boy now about to become roadkill. Jason’s men pour out of the bar, in various stages of drunkenness. A couple trip over, but most of them find their ways to their bikes and follow after their boss. Jason doesn’t care that he’s riding like a madman; no one steals from him or his club. He’s gonna catch up to that pretty boy, and then he’ll be sorry.

Jason has to give it to him, Nightwing can ride. He’s keeping a good pace, but Jason’s nearly catching up to him, a little ahead of the rest of the pack. When Nightwing looks back, there’s a sea of red behind him, racing to surround him and drag him back to their base to face judgement. The freescape zips by Jason at 90 miles an hour and part of him is exhilarated at the speed and freedom that riding like this can bring, pushing both his own limits and those of the bike. Nightwing probably feels the same as he zigs around a rock, zags around another, guns the throttle and opens the bike up as much as he can to jump over the deep dip in the ‘road’. If Jason were less pissed about the stealing, he’d admit he was impressed with the skill on display. He might even tell Nightwing so after burying his fist in that pretty face a couple of times. Maybe.

Eventually Nightwing starts to pull away, and only Jason can keep up with him, his club left behind them in the dust. They know to return to base at times like these, so Jason pays them no mind, focusing only on pacing Nightwing. It’s so close between them, Jason feels like he could reach out and touch the back of the other bike. He flicks his gaze down, up until now he’d been ignoring the dials on the bike, but it’s just his luck, because the needle on the dial for the gas tank is dipping dangerously low. Jason knows how far he’s ridden and he’ll only have enough gas to get back to base if he turns around now.

Jason curses, loud and long. That fucking flirt of a shitty thief is gonna get away with taking the old boss’ bike and there’s nothing Jason can do about it now. If he keeps going, he’ll be stranded too far from base to get back. The pretty boy isn’t worth dying for. Red Hood M.C only fights over one thing, and that bastard isn’t a weapon, no matter how enraging he is. With a final well earned scream of “FUCK!” Jason slows his bike down and turns to head back. He grits his teeth in frustration hearing Nightwing whoop exuberantly in celebration. He’ll get that bastard another day. He really shouldn’t have told Jason his name. He knows who to track down now.

***

After a full refuelling, Jason heads out again into the freescape. The cold night air makes him glad he’s wearing his thick leathers and helmet, and that’s when he’s not even moving. The wind shear when he gets some speed up leaves a deep persistent chill on his skin through even the thick leather jacket, pants, gloves and boots. At least the helmet keeps out the wind, sand and bugs. Three hours or so later he spots a figure in the distance, perched on a stationary bike. As he gets closer, he recognises the bike. It’s Nightwing, who’s probably run out of gas and now is stranded in the ‘road’. Jason pulls up next to him, taking off his helmet and smirking. Pretty Boy’s got no other choice but to accept a ride on Jason’s bike unless he plans on dying of thirst out here.

“Aww, look who needs a ride. Didya run outta gas?” Jason smirks, leaning forward on the handlebars casually, as if this is a Sunday leisure trip and that he’s not been tracking Nightwing for hours.

“Of course the first ride to come along is a douchebag Red Hood.” Nightwing sighs, standing up and taking up a pose like they’re about to indulge in some fisticuffs. “Go away, I don’t need help from scum.” 

“Keep sweet talking me, Pretty Boy. I might be scum, but at least I embrace it. You’re just a _Dick_.” Jason snorts, ignoring Nightwing’s half scoff, half choking noise. Jason considers taking out his packet of cigarettes and lighting one, but he’s only got a few left, and while smoking would give Nightwing the implication that Jason’s hardly intimidated by his fighting stance, he doesn’t really want to waste one of the last precious smokes he has, at least until they hit up a trading post next month.

“For you, scum is a compliment.” Nightwing says, scowling. It’s not a good look on that pretty face, but it’s a familiar one to Jason. Not too many people take kindly to the boss of the Red Hood M.C being so young. They seem to take it more as an invitation to attempt a takeover. No one’s succeeded yet. It makes Jason popular with his guys, but not many others. He’s used to it by now, though.

“Cute. You this flirty with all the boys, or should I feel special?” Jason says, leaning back on his bike, studying Nightwing. The man is shivering slightly, jacket still unzipped and showing off his ink. Jason has to wonder why he’s so underdressed in this climate. What possible reason he could have for not covering up when no one else is about. At least he’s wearing gloves.

“You wish.” Nightwing snaps out, it’s almost amusing how different he’s acting now from how he was when Jason caught him stealing the bike earlier. Makes Jason wonder just how fake that kiss really was, how fake that moan was, and how many other poor schmucks have fallen for it.

“You answer one question and I’ll consider not leaving you here. Did you kiss me just to steal those keys?” Jason’s pretty sure the answer is a definite yes, but well, as much as he wants to pummel those baby blue eyes, he can be honest enough to admit he wouldn’t mind a tumble in the sheets with Nightwing, too. Not that he thinks the other man would agree to it, but a few little fantasies in the privacy of his own mind will hurt no one.

“Seriously? What the hell do you think?” Nightwing rolls his eyes. “I can’t stand you sleazeballs. I can’t believe you fell for it.” Jason narrows his eyes at Nightwing. As sure as he sounds, there’s something a little off in his body language, something defensive in the way he shifts his hips and crosses his arms. That little inhale and the way he sucks his lower lips between his teeth as he remembers sucking on Jason’s tongue. It makes Jason think that he kissed him to steal the keys and then was surprised at how much he enjoyed it.

“ _Riiight_. Because you would be amazed at how many people try pulling that.” Jason says as dryly as the freescape around them, gaze drawn away from Nightwing for a moment by the eddies of wind and dust whirling around in the distance. It’s nothing to worry about for now, but if it gets any stronger then they’ll be riding hell for leather, and not for fun.

“Well, if you keep falling for it, it’s not my problem.” Nightwing says, dragging Jason’s attention back to him, and to the ink on his chest. In the pale morning light, Jason can just about make out the face of a demon hidden in the swirls of the blue V shape that makes up the outlines of his tattoo. There’s something about the design seems familiar, although Jason couldn’t say where he would’ve seen it before.

“Actually, the sum total of idiots who’ve tried that would be... oh yeah, just you, Pretty Boy.” Jason grins, pointing at Nightwing with his middle finger.

“You don’t get kissed or you don’t get stolen from? Actually never mind, I know it’s both.” Nightwing scowls again, and Jason can’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Oh, I get kissed and more, plenty, don’t you worry your pretty face about that. But most people are looking for fun, not keys.” Jason shakes his head in amusement when Nightwing pouts at the term ‘pretty face’.

“So are you just going to bore me to death, or are you leaving me here? Because I got to be honest, option two is looking more and more appealing the more you keep talking.” Nightwing’s got a mouth on him, Jason can tell it gets him into trouble all the time. Jason used to be the same way before the old boss man died and he took over the club.

“Liar.” Jason grins, wolfishly, he’s got Nightwing over a barrel here, and he’s going to enjoy the hell out of it. He shakes his head. “Get on. Maybe if you’re real nice to me I’ll drop you off somewhere before we get back to base.”

“And what exactly is _real nice_?” Nightwing hesitantly begins to move towards the bike, still guarded but relaxed enough that he moves like silk. Jason takes a moment to appreciate that walk, it’s like a big cat he saw in a movie once, all grace and power, and Jason likes it.

“Oh, where’s the fun in telling you? Prove you’re more than a pretty face and a hot bod and work it out yourself, _sweetheart_.” To be honest, Jason will settle for a little civil conversation. He is saving the guy’s life after all. A thank you is really not too much to ask. Or intel on a weapons deal. That’d work _real_ nice. Perhaps another kiss... No. Jason likes his kisses free of obligation from both parties. He’s a bad guy, sure, but everyone has their hard limits. That one is Jason’s.

“You really are scum. You know that?” Nightwing says, walking past him and throwing a leg over the back of Jason’s bike. He grabs the bar behind him, his knees coming up behind Jason’s to squeeze the bike between his thighs.

“You say the sweetest things, honey. Now, hold on, and I’ll show you how to really ride.” There’s a faint ‘ugh’ sound from Nightwing, but his thighs grip tighter as Jason pulls his helmet back on and revs the bike, the dust scattering behind them as they drive off.

***

Civil conversation does not happen. For the most part, the only sound in their ears is the whistling of the wind as they speed across the landscape. The road is smooth beneath Jason’s wheels, and he almost forgets for a while that he has an unwilling passenger. After half an hour, Nightwing has silently shifted his hands from behind him on the bar, to lightly resting on Jason’s waist. There’s something nice about having Nightwing pressed up behind him. It’s the comfort of touch with no obligations, Jason guesses. Well, no obligations on Jason’s part at least. He has no idea what the pretty boy might be thinking.

Jason has been waiting for Nightwing to attack him and steal his bike, but for whatever reason, he hasn’t even tried. Jason lets his guard down enough to relax and enjoy the feel of the bike under him as it eats up the distance to the nearest outpost. The longer they ride, the more Nightwing rests his weight against Jason’s back, his hands slipping further forward until he’s hooked his fingers into the belt loops on the front of Jason’s pants.

“Getting a little friendly there, Pretty Boy...” Jason says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Usually I at least buy someone dinner first before they get into my pants.”

“Funny. You don’t strike me as the type of who crawls out from under his rock to even eat dinner.” Nightwing hooks his chin over Jason’s shoulder to talk right into the speakers in Jason’s helmet.

“You know, you can call me Jason. Might just make it less confusing for you with all the other scum you keep mentioning.” Jason leans back a little, enough that he can hear the huff of breath Nightwing gives out at taking more weight.

“Please, no. If I do that, you’ll keep calling me Dick like we’re actually friends.” Nightwing grits out, pushing forward against Jason’s back. It can’t be all that comfortable; his jacket’s still hanging open and his bare skin is pressing up against the rough edges of the leather patches that spell out Jason’s last name on the back of his jacket.

“Wait, your name is actually _Dick_? Shit, that’s unfortunate...” Jason blurts out, without thinking. Wow, awkward, no wonder the guy insists on being called Nightwing.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before. No new jokes under the sun or in the Garden.” Nightwing, no, Dick sounds irritated, obviously waiting for Jason to make another comment.

“Nah, taking potshots at your name is too easy. Especially when you react so good to Pretty Boy instead.” Jason grins under his helmet, hearing Dick huff again. Jason imagines that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Real gentlemanly of you. I don’t believe it for a second.” Dick scoffs, digging his chin into Jason’s shoulder, and slipping his arms up higher around Jason’s waist.

“Aww, should I be offended?” Jason snorts, amused. “And speaking of not believing it, that kiss last night...”

“That kiss that was 100% only to steal your keys?” Dick interrupts, shifting his legs away from Jason’s as much as he can.

“Yeah, that one. I saw the look on your face when you said you didn’t enjoy it. You were lying through your shiny white teeth.” Jason says, emphasising his point by tapping on the handlebars with his finger.

“Most people believe when I lie.” Dick says, more to himself than Jason. “It would have to be a shit like you who sees through it.”

“So... Did ya enjoy it?” Jason continues like Dick hadn’t spoken.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I would’ve enjoyed it more if you didn’t have stubble.” Dick’s amusement at playing coy comes through clearly.

“Ha, that means you did.” Jason lets himself be smug at that. He’d got a real reaction from Pretty Boy. That’s worth its weight in black gold.

“Ugh. Shut up.” Dick groans long and loudly. “Please. Or I’ll throw myself from this bike.”

***

The early morning feels timeless, like they could have been driving for minutes or days instead of the bare two hours they actually have. The freescape is as quiet and empty as it usually is, and the sense of liberation Jason gets while they ride is overwhelming. They could be the only two people left alive and Jason would be fine with that. When the sun begins to rise over the horizon, Jason draws to a stop, killing the engine and leaning forward onto the handlebars. Jason’s not one to stop and admire the beauty of the world around him, usually. Give him a gorgeous hog that’s been chopped just right, or a pretty face on a good body, and he’ll look happily, but today, there’s something that’s making him stop and stare.

Dick shifts behind him, leaning back to swing his leg over Jason and drop his feet down from the rests to connect with the dirt underneath them. His arm comes up to rest on Jason’s shoulder, and they sit in a strangely comfortable silence as the sun climbs steadily up from below the skyline.

“You know, my parents used to tell me stories about the sun...” Dick says hesitantly, quietly as if to not disturb the world around them.

“That it’s a big ball of gas exploding and burning out billions of billions of miles away?” Jason says, equally quietly, tilting his head towards Dick.

“No. Shut up and stop ruining the moment, douchebag.” Dick grumbles, smacking Jason on the head none too lightly. Jason finds he’s amused by that rather than insulted. Anyone else trying that would end up in the dirt with a bullet between their eyes.

“But my whole thing is being here to ruin things, _Dickie_...” Jason’s only half joking. Somebody’s day usually gets ruined when Jason turns up to steal their weapons. Dick gives Jason a dark look, and then turns back to the sunrise.

“Sometimes my parents would tell me that the sun rides on a chariot pulled by these two horses Árvakr and Alsovðr. Other times, they’d tell me that it was pushed across the sky by a scarab beetle. But my favourite was when they told me about Zorya Utrennyaya, who sends the sun-chariot out every morning and her sister, Zorya Vechernyaya who’d welcome it back every evening.”

“So, the options are horses, a shit beetle or two hot chicks. Huh. Interesting choices.” Jason hums, thinking about it before he grins wide. “I think I like ‘exploding ball of gas’ myself. But then I just like watching things go boom. Really like it. My favourite toys all go boom, real big. _Fuck_ , I love them.”

“You know what, I take back the scum comments. Clearly you are a man with poetry in his soul, Todd.” Dick scoffs, shaking his head.

“You know, Pretty Boy, sarcasm don’t suit you. It twists up that face of yours.” Jason turns to look at him. Their faces are surprisingly close, and Jason can’t stop himself from flicking his gaze between his bright blue eyes and those unexpectedly soft lips, currently drawn into an unhappy straight line. Jason leans in, knowing that it’s a mistake and that he’s probably about to get slapped at the very least, if not his nose broken.

Dick doesn’t push him away. Though, he does narrow his eyes and lick his lips the closer Jason gets. Jason presses his lips against Dick’s, feeling them open up under his, tasting the faint traces of wetness from before. Dick’s breath rushes out against his cheek in a silent moan, and he pushes back against Jason, flicking the tip of his tongue along the inside of Jason’s lips. When Jason pulls back, Dick’s slightly flushed and his eyes are hazy with pleasure. Jason feels a thrill knowing that despite his hostility, Dick wants this as much as he does.

“The stubble doesn’t bother you that much after all, does it?” Jason whispers into Dick’s mouth, side of his mouth curling into a smile.

“No talking. More kissing.” Dick whispers back, pushing in for another kiss, kind of angrily.

Jason pushes his hands into Dick’s hair instead of answering, biting lightly as Dick’s lower lip until Dick whimpers, then kissing along his jaw until he reaches his ear. He leans back, pulling Dick with him until his back is nearly touching the gas tank of his bike. Dick grabs at his jacket, twisting them so that Jason’s pulled over Dick almost like a blanket. Jason grins, kissing down Dick’s neck, nipping at his collarbone with a biting kiss. Dick shivers under Jason, breathy moans slipping from his open lips. Jason licks a line across Dick’s chest, following the lines of Dick’s tattoo, sliding his hands under the open sides of Dick’s jacket and shoving it open further.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the hell don’t you wear a shirt?” Jason says, sitting back and grinning, while Dick shifts on his gas tank.

“None of your business.” Dick gasps out, as Jason flicks his thumbs over Dick’s nipples. Dick reaches out above his head to grab onto the handlebars, seemingly on reflex.

“Sensitive, ain’t ya?” Jason chuckles, doing it again and enjoying the way Dick squirms and whines quietly in his throat. “That why you don’t wear a shirt, Dickie? I think it is...” Jason drags his hands down Dick’s body to his waistband, undoing it with a flick of his wrist, the bright red of his gloves a violent contrast against the tan of Dick’s skin.

“Maybe you’re just rougher than I’m used to...” Dick groans. “Not that I’d expect gentle from a douchebag fuck like you.”

“You’re a real peach, Pretty Boy.” Jason forcefully pulls Dick’s fly open by the edges of the waistband. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Don’t talk about my mother with your hand down my pants! Come on, dude.” Dick huffs, lifting his hips up unthinkingly. His cock twitches in Jason’s hand, hard and beginning to get wet at the tip.

“Say please.” Jason teases, wrenching Dick’s pants down his hips.

“Fuck you.” Dick spits out, reaching out to grab at Jason’s shoulder, at the same time his leg lifts up to wrap around Jason’s.

“Cute. I’ll take it.” Jason pulls his hand out of Dick’s pants to unzip his own jacket and pull his tight white t-shirt up, before undoing his own fly. He pulls his cock out, leaning down to press it against Dick’s, wrapping his hand around them both. Dick gives out a long stuttering breath, rocking his hips up into Jason’s hand. He wraps his other leg around Jason’s as best he can with the bike in the way underneath them.

Jason tugs at them both, the cool soft leather of his gloves and the heat from Dick twisting together wonderfully. Jason slides his free hand up Dick’s body to his collarbones, just above his ink, pressing Dick down onto the hog. Dick’s eyes flash with a mix of lust and annoyance at being pinned. While the slide of skin on skin on leather feels great, the feeling of the smooth skin of Dick’s inner thighs clamping down on Jason’s hips and the breathy moans and groans Dick makes are stupidly hot, but what’s really getting Jason off is the look on his face. That mix of lust and annoyance slowing melting into a slackening look of overwhelming pleasure that makes his balls tighten ready to empty themselves all over Dick’s ink. It’s the knowledge that however much Dick dislikes Jason, he can still break down all of Dick’s defences and leave him panting and begging for more that gives Jason a feeling of bone-deep satisfaction.

But what really tips Jason over the edge into orgasm, is the fact that Dick says his name as he comes all over Jason’s glove and his own chest. The orgasm feels something like a brick to the head it’s so sudden and swift. Jason collapses down onto Dick, covering him almost completely. Dick slides his hand up from Jason’s shoulder to the nape of his neck and rests his hand there. Jason lifts his head from Dick’s shoulder, pressing a sweet soft kiss to Dick’s mouth.

“So how’s that for ‘real nice’?” Dick whispers, a real smile teasing at the edges of his mouth.

“That depends, are you gonna be annoyingly smug if I say it was the best ever?” Jason replies, feeling a similar tugging at his own mouth.

“Oh yeah, _real nice_.” Dick says, just as smug as Jason knew he’d be.

***

Another hour of driving and they’re coming up on Gotham City Garage. Jason usually avoids GCG on principle; he’s got no beef with those ladies and he’d like to keep it that way. So when he steers away from the track to the garage, Dick notices. He slips his fingers under the bottom of Jason’s jacket, stroking at his abs over his t-shirt.

“Hey, you know what’s a good idea? Refuelling at GCG. I could do with a drink before you take me back to your base? What do you say?” Dick purrs at his ear. Jason doesn’t say anything. He knows Dick’s playing nice to try to escape on something like friendly territory. If he lets Dick go now, he’ll probably never see the fucker ever again, and Jason doesn’t actually want that. On the other hand, he doesn’t really want to see him get turned into roadkill by his guys either. Letting him go gives him a chance to hook up with Dick in the future, no matter how slim that chance is.

“Oh come on, you must be thirsty! One quick little drink to refuel ourselves... I could be real nice to you again...” Dick purrs into his ear again. Jason sighs, steering his bike towards GCG. He knows he’s being stupid, thinking with his cock, but honestly no one but he and Dick are ever going to know.

“Yes! Thanks, man. I promise you won’t regret it.” Dick sweeps his hand up and down under Jason’s jacket once more and Jason wants to snarl.

“I don’t do regrets, Pretty Boy.” He doesn’t. Jason doesn’t see the point of regretting things. Either you do what you do, or you don’t. If you’re going to regret it, don’t do it. They speed along the road to GCG with Dick murmuring seductive promises that he never intends to keep into Jason’s ear. As the lights from the Garage grow brighter and closer, Jason begins to slow, wondering exactly what Dick’s about to pull. When their speed has dropped to around half the miles per hour they had been doing, Jason feels Dick lean back from his previous position of being plastered to Jason’s back. Jason doesn’t have time to ask what Dick’s doing as he vaults from the moving bike and tucks and rolls into a stop, standing close to the doors of the bar.

Jason twists, turning to look over his shoulder as he sees Dick standing in the road, waving smugly. Jason slows, turning into a stop, staring at Dick from a good truck length away. Dick, no, Nightwing smirks, saluting him. Jason debates driving back there and going after him, but he knows it’s not worth the effort. The patrons of the bar would drive him off if he goes in guns blazing, and to even get close to Nightwing, that’s exactly what he’d have to do. Jason sighs, he’s been out played and he knows it. Nightwing’s still standing there in the road, smirking, although the smirk is dipping with what Jason thinks is confusion as Jason simply sits there and doesn’t retaliate.

Jason’s options are damn near suicide in fighting off the entire GCG bar or leaving. It’s not really a choice. The Red Hood Motorcycle Club only fights over one thing, and as pretty as Nightwing is, he’s not a weapon.

Jason turns the handlebars of his hog away, slowly starting to ride away. He glances in his rear view mirrors as he goes, Nightwing still visible in them. He looks almost disappointed. Maybe he was serious about that drink after all? Or maybe just about that second round of sex. Jason guesses that he’ll never know now.

***

Jason walks into the bar, pulling off his dusty helmet as he drops down into the corner booth at the very back of the dingy dive, decorated with old pre-worldburn neon lights that haven’t been turned on in decades, and old tin street signs from back when the roads still had asphalt surfaces for smoother driving. A waitress comes over and leaves a jug of beer with a single pint glass before walking off without a word. That’s the exact reason why this is Jason’s favourite bar, the service and the constant flow of cheap beer that’s brewed in the basement of the premises. By the time Jason’s a glass and a half into his jug, the last person he wants to see walks in.

Annoyingly, Nightwing looks great, relaxed and well fed, but still displaying a dire lack of shirt in the cold weather. His nipples are peaked, nudging up against the edges of his jacket, and Jason can’t take his eyes off them. It’s better than looking at his face, at least. Because that face has been haunting his dreams in a bad way near nightly in the weeks since Jason gave him a ride to Gotham City Garage. 

Nightwing slouches over to the bar, sitting on a stool with his legs spread stupidly, invitingly, wide. Jason glares at his back, taking in the stretch of his leather jacket across his shoulders, and how damn tight his pants are, dipping low at the waistband despite clinging to his skin like a jealous lover. Nightwing takes a drink from a bottle, tipping his head back to show off his throat as swallows. 

Jason tilts his head to the side as he watches Nightwing’s Adam’s Apple bob. He can’t help but wonder if Nightwing’s advertising himself to everyone in the bar, or if he’s doing it on purpose because he knows Jason’s there. He doesn’t know which option he prefers.

Nightwing spins on his stool, staring out into the half full bar, trying to pick out his next lucky companion for the night. The bar’s half full, so he has some choices. He leans back with his elbows on the countertop, legs still spread obscenely wide. He licks his lips, and raises his bottle of beer to his mouth, eyes sparkling with the almost leer he has on his face. Jason leans back in his booth, resting his arm on the back of the bench. He waits for Nightwing’s searching gaze to land on him. It takes longer than he thought it would for him to finally notice Jason’s there.

Jason tips his glass in invitation, raising one eyebrow when Nightwing hesitates to slide off his stool and wander over to him.

“And here I was hoping I’d never have to see your face again.” Nightwing sighs, mouth drawn into a flat line, but his eyes sparking with that same lust Jason saw when he was pinning him down onto his bike the last time they met.

“And yet, here you are, sitting in _my_ booth. Fancy that, Pretty Boy.” Jason says, lifting his arm from the back of the bench to gesturing around the booth before letting it return to its former position.

“You know what I fancy? ...I fancy something _other_ than a drink. You up for that?” Nightwing says, leaning forward over the table, his gaze flicking between Jason’s eyes and his mouth, while his tongue darts out to wet his lip again.

“Didn’t take you for the type to enjoy screwing in bar bathrooms, but I can be persuaded.” Jason grins, taking another sip of beer.

“I knew you weren’t the classy type, Todd, but I meant the alley out back.” Nightwing rolls his eyes, standing up. “Meet me out back in two, or don’t bother coming at all.”

“Oh, we’re both gonna fucking come, Pretty Boy. Only question is if you’re gonna need my hand over your mouth to keep yourself _quiet_.” Jason smirks, downing the rest of his glass. Nightwing chokes on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken and Jason gets a thrill of victory at the thought of Nightwing doing that around his cock. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living, and that’s a little hot.

“Fuck you.” Dick coughs out, wiping at the spilt beer that’s dripping down his bare chest as he starts walking towards the back exit of the bar.

“Nah, it’s the other way round, and you know it, _Dickie_.” Jason replies, watching him walk away. In two minutes, he’s going to have those legs and that ass pressed around him and he can’t wait.

120 seconds later he follows Nightwing outside. The other man’s standing next to a pool of deep shadows, waiting for Jason and looking hungry. Hungry and needy for Jason. Jason grins lazily loving that _Dick_ wants it so bad from him of all people, and a flicker of impatience crosses Nightwing’s pretty face before the hunger comes back. As soon as Jason’s in arm’s reach of him, Dick grabs him and pulls him into a biting, hot kiss. When they break apart, Jason’s got the other man pressed up against the wall, his arms wrapped tight around Dick’s waist.

Dick’s breathing hard, leg already hiked up onto Jason’s hip, and arms wound around Jason’s shoulders. Dick rocks his hips against Jason, hissing in relief when Jason presses back and then groaning quietly when he pulls away.

“Gimme some room to work here, sweetheart. Unless you wanna cream those tight pants of yours, of course?” Jason says into Dick’s ear, and Jason doesn’t really know or care if it was his words or his breath against sensitive skin that makes Dick shudder so hard.

“I’d rather come all over your abs.” Dick mutters, dragging an arm down between them to open Jason’s jacket while Jason undoes both their belts. It’s bare moments later that Jason’s shoving open both their flies and lining their cocks up. Dick pulls Jason’s hand away, sliding it down to grip at juncture between Dick’s ass and his raised leg. He can’t resist tapping at Dick’s balls trapped inside that ridiculously tight leather with his finger. Any questions Jason might have had about why Dick doesn’t want him to jerk them both off die in his throat as Dick wraps his other leg around his waist and starts rocking his hips frantically.

Jason takes Dick’s weight easily, pressing his back into the wall a little more and Dick groans happily, finding Jason’s lips for another kiss. Dick’s nipples are hard little nubs catching on Jason’s t-shirt, making his breath hitch into Jason’s mouth. The pressure and glorious friction as the rub on each other is doing something to Jason’s mind. For one, he doesn’t care if anyone sees them rutting in the shadows like teenagers. For another he wants to snarl, so he bares his teeth and then buries them in Dick’s perfect neck, holding him in place while Jason rolls against him and does his best to make him come.

Dick’s making breathy noises that get louder the closer he gets. Jason answers his earlier question by slapping a hand over Dick’s mouth. He has to shift his grip on Dick’s leg with the extra weight, but the needy moans that spill out of Dick that actually get louder when Jason’s muffling him are worth it. Dick’s grip on his shoulders tightens, turning almost bruising if not for the thick protection of Jason’s jacket. Dick outright whimpers as he comes between them, legs pulling Jason in closer against him and Jason lets go seconds after, dampening his t-shirt further.

Jason lifts his head from where it’s fallen onto Dick’s shoulder and the look they share as Dick rests his forehead against Jason’s fills his chest with something unfamiliar and exhilarating and unnerving all at the same time. Jason’s not sure what’s happening, but he knows he’s in trouble. But if he gets the chance to be with Dick like this again? He’s going to take it and damn the consequences.

***

Jason’s met up with Dick a handful of times by the time he overhears his men talking about it in the warehouse chop shop. It’s lunchtime, so most of his guys have knocked off to find food, but a couple are sitting over the bikes they’re currently chopping. They aren’t aware he’s there, or they’d never be talking the way they are.

“Man, you shoulda seen the smug look on his face, Ratch. Swear, Boss’ Boy honestly thought we weren’t _letting_ him get away.” Jack snorts, throwing a wrench into a nearby toolbox. “If he weren’t the Boss’ Boy, he’da been roadkill an’ no mistake.”

“He should join the M.C already. Boss always looks ... Dunno? Distant? After seein’ him. Should just bring him home an’ make it official already.” Ratch nods, pushing his greasy hat back.

“I know right?! I’d tell the Boss that, but well...” Jack trails off, gesturing vaguely. 

“You’re a dumbass, but not stupid enough to be Boss’ roadkill for tellin’ him so?” Ratch suggests, grinning.

“Yeah, that. Maybe we could do an anonnymouse note?” Ratch wonders, scratching under his hat. _Jason_ wonders how these dumbasses managed to raise him and not kill him before he hit puberty. It’s a miracle he managed to survive long enough to become Boss.

“We gotta find a guy what writes then. But hells yeah, we should!” Jack exclaims loudly before shushing himself. Jason rolls his eyes, and in the privacy of his ‘office’, he considers offering Dick a place in Red Hood Motorcycle Club.

***

One of the things Jason’s realised since he began sleeping with Dick is how much he enjoys slow, lazy post fuck kisses. It keeps the satisfaction of a good fuck going after he’s pulled out. It also delays the inevitable awkward small talk too. Dick breaks the kiss, humming happily as he slips off the queensize bed, not bothering to pull on any clothes whatsoever and limps slightly over to the small clean but dingy ensuite bathroom. Jason pushes up onto an elbow to watch him go better.

He takes in the darkening handprints on Dick’s thighs and the bitemarks on his shoulders and the shadow of something that might be bruise forming on his balls from when Jason was playing with them a little too hard earlier, and feels a possessive thrill go through him. _His_ handprints, that he left as he thrust into Dick while he begged for it harder and faster, are going to be there for days, and Jason loves it. He sits up in the bed properly, throwing back the thin scratchy sheets, and how novel is it that they actually used a bed for once? He’s going to encourage Dick to hire out one of the cheap rooms above the bar on a more regular basis. When his feet hit the grubby, tacky carpet, Jason grimaces, and thinks of course there’s a downside to hiring a room. Jason grabs his shorts from the floor, pulling them on before finding his pants. As he starts pulling them up his legs he calls out to Dick.

“Hey, I gotta offer for you.” Jason grabs his t-shirt and pulls it on over his head.

“Mmmat?” Dick calls back, words garbled by the toothbrush still in his mouth.

“You wanna join the Red Hoods? You’re a fucking amazing rider, and we could use your skills. There’s a place for you and a home too, if you want.” Jason says, looking around for his boots with his back still to Dick.

“Are you fucking serious? What the hell have I ever done to make you think I’d want to join you douchebags.” Dick spits out, and Jason stiffens. He hadn’t been expecting a yes, but he’d thought Dick might have softened his stance towards his Club. Apparently not. Jason wants to be exclusive with Dick, have him in his life every day, make a home with him. Clearly Dick doesn’t feel the same. It must be just sex for him. It’s Jason’s own fault for letting himself think it was anything more. He hears a sigh behind him and then feels Dick climb on the bed, resting his arms on Jason’s shoulders.

“Shit, I’m... that came out harsher than intended.” Dick says, voice apologetic, shifting until he’s pressed against Jason’s side.

“So it’s not because you’re embarrassed of being with me?” Jason knows it is. He’s not as stupid as Dick thinks he is, but here he is asking anyway.

“I’m not embarrassed.” Dick’s trying to be convincing, but Jason catches the flash of shame that he tries to quickly hide.

“Look, I don’t mind if you want me to be you’re dirty little secret.” Jason lies, not willing to tell Dick that they’re an open secret, and everyone knows. “I don’t mind if we’re not exclusive.” Jason lies again, the thought of anyone but him touching Dick pisses him off hugely. “I don’t mind if you don’t want to come home with me.” Jason _lies_ , because he wants nothing more. “But don’t pretend that you want less from me than you actually do, ok?” Jason grits out, while Dick tenses up against him.

“I... yeah, I can do that.” Dick looks down, and that’s another flash of shame on his face. “But the job thing? It’s more like... Thanks but no thanks? I like being a free agent.” Dick says, leaning forward with Jason as he pulls on his boots, and then back when Jason straightens.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Was a stupid idea anyway.” Jason’s shoulders slump, and Dick rests his chin on his arm.

“It’s just... my last boss. He was a controlling, self-righteous... _asswipe_ who wanted to put ridealongs in my head.” Dick says, trying to explain, while Jason stands up to strap on his guns.

“He sounds like a fucking peach. No wonder you left him.” Jason shrugs on his jacket, zipping it up and looking over at Dick who seems lost in his memories.

“Yeah. So, anyway... If I joined you, I’d be living with my boss, and I can’t risk giving anyone that much control over me ever again.” Dick looks up at him, stubbornness all over his features. He’s naked but for the ink all over his chest that runs up along his collarbones over his shoulders and down to his forearms, and covered in bruises and bites that Jason’s left on him, but he’s never looked more in control to Jason than he does now.

“I get it, Dickie. Forget I ever said anything.” Jason picks up his gloves and shoves his hands into them. He pats down his pockets to make sure he’s got his extra ammo and keys before picking up his helmet. “I’ll see you around.” Jason’s out the door before Dick can reply, pulling his helmet on and stalking down the stairs and out the door of the pub to his bike as fast as he can.

He straddles his bike, revving the engine and taking off into the freescape. He hopes that going as fast as his hog will take him will ease the pain in his chest that makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

***

_“Meet me out back in ten or you’ll regret it.”_

Jason’s leaning against his hog when Dick finally leaves the bar. Dick smiles, and Jason’s mouth curls up at the sides in response. Jason straddles his bike, jerking his head to the side and Dick follows his cue, getting on behind him and wrapping his arms around him with no prompting. Jason drives them away, beyond the borders of the outpost and along the road, out to an old lookout spot that still, somehow, has a couple of picnic tables and proper parking spaces painted out.

Jason has no idea what the view used to be, but now it’s freescape, desert as far as the eye can see, and the Garden some way beyond that, not that Jason’s been there since before he can remember. He parks his hog next to the table closest to the road, and idly watches as a truck drives by.

“You ever wonder what this place looked like before the worldburn?” Dick says, hopping off the bike and wandering over to the table, jumping up on to the attached bench and staring out over the landscape.

“Can’t say I’ve ever wasted the brain power on thoughts like that, no.” Jason gets of the bike and joins Dick over by the table. Dick turns to him with a mean little smirk on his pretty face.

“I could make a joke about you not having any brain power in the first place, but it feels too easy.” Dick randomly backflips off the bench to land on the ground and Jason rolls his eyes, pulling his helmet and gloves off to give him a few seconds more to think of a comeback.

“Well, let’s be honest here, Pretty Boy, you’re the only easy thing around here.” Jason says, grinning when Dick shoves at his shoulder playfully.

“Rude, but not exactly inaccurate, I guess.” Dick pulls him in by the lapels on his jacket then pushes him to sit on the bench, still holding on. Jason, not wanting to give in quite that much, manages to get a foot on the bench and push up to sit on the table. “I like to think it was all green meadows and, I don’t know, lots of trees and birds and things. Something pretty, anyway.”

“Well, the view’s not bad from where I’m sitting...” Jason says, reaching up to grip Dick’s wrists, and pull him in for a kiss. Dick lets him, ending up on his knees on the bench between Jason’s legs, but returning the kiss happily. Dick breaks the kiss, grinning and a touch breathless.

“Not so bad, huh? What happened to pretty?” Dick smiles up at him through his lashes. He tugs on Jason’s jacket, making Jason take some of his weight, until Jason leans back to counterbalance. Dick takes the opportunity to climb up into Jason’s lap, spreading his legs over Jason to keep his knees wide on the table.

“Aww, you’re still pretty, baby. But times like these? With that smile for me? You’re gorgeous.” Jason says, resting his hands on Dick’s hips and nuzzling their noses together. It’s a risky move for Jason, they’re totally out in the open and Dick still has this thing about no one seeing them together, so Dick could freak out and run off.

“You sweet talker, you!” Dick smiles and Jason relaxes a little more, Dick’s not going anywhere for now. “The big bad Red Hood Boss, all soft and mushy for me. Anyone would think I stole your heart, Jason.”

“Nah, dude. Everyone knows I don’t have a heart. No way you could steal it.” Jason snorts, cupping Dick’s ass and giving it a good long squeeze. Dick’s eyes flutter shut, hips shifting like he can’t decide whether to push back into Jason’s hands or rock forward further into his lap. Dick opens his bright blue eyes and Jason feels lost in them.

“So that isn’t your heart I feel beating in my back pocket then?” Dick bites his lip to hide his small smile.

“Dunno what the hell kind of anatomy lessons they give in the Garden, but out here in the freescape we know that hearts ain’t in your _lap_.”

“Oh, maybe you should show me...” Dick pushes his hands down into Jason’s lap, undoing his belt and zip, and pushing inside his shorts. “You know, you’re right. That’s definitely not your heart. Despite the pulsing. You might want to get that looked at.”

“I think you’ll find that’s a very normal reaction to having a hot dude palming you. Keep going and it’ll stop.” Jason groans when Dick wraps his hand around his shaft and teases the head.

“Is that so?” Dick leans forward to brush a frustratingly light kiss to Jason’s mouth. “Maybe I should try something different this time.” Jason gives a frustrated groan as Dick pulls his hand out, shoving it into his jacket pocket.

“I was enjoying that.” Jason complains, eyeing Dick as he shifts on Jason’s lap, undoing his own fly.

“Don’t worry; you’re going to enjoy this more.” Dick says, with absolute confidence. He kisses Jason again, and Jason lets Dick distract him with his lips and tongue until Jason’s hands have slid up Dick’s back under his jacket, enjoying the feeling of smooth skin under his fingers. He’s vaguely aware Dick’s doing something rhythmic with his hand and it’s not until he pulls away for air that he realises Dick’s opening himself up for him. Dick lifts himself up on Jason’s lap, slipping his fingers out and pushing his pants down to his knees. He smirks at Jason, shuffling forward and gripping Jason’s cock before sinking down onto it with ease.

“Fucking goddamn holy _hell_ , Dickie...” Jason pants out as Dick seats himself all the way down. He’s tight and wet and mind-blowingly good, Jason so deep in him that he can almost feel Dick’s heartbeat. “You gonna ride me, sweetheart?”

“All the way to heaven and back.” Dick groans, gripping on to Jason’s shoulders for leverage. “Or maybe hell. Fuck, I don’t know, just keep your hands on me.” Jason drags his hands down Dick’s sides, letting his fingernails dig in slightly. Dick moans prettily and starts to rock up and down, slowly increasing the depth of his thrusts. Jason ends up gripping Dick’s bare hips, not helping the rhythm in the slightest. Jason captures Dick’s lips in another kiss, biting down lightly on that full bottom lip making Dick whine low in his throat. Dick starts riding him in earnest, a slick smooth glide up and down, pulling him in deep and the drag on the upward stroke makes Jason _snarl_ , it feels so good.

The sound of a distant horn from a truck in the distance startles Dick, and they share a look. Jason half expects Dick to demand they move from view, if not stop completely, but Dick says nothing. In fact if anything, he starts to ride harder and faster, biting his lip to keep the noises in over the faint muffled slapping sound of his balls against Jason’s belly, and failing to do that at all when he hits that one spot inside that makes his eyes roll back in his head. Jason grips onto Dick harder, staring at that face as his cock gets the riding of his life.

“You feel so good, Pretty Boy. Always so good for me.” Jason moans out, more honest than he meant to be. “Want everyone to know how good you are for me. Wanna take you home and keep you.” Dick’s moves a hand to pinch his nipple and his mouth opens wide in a silent scream. Dick comes suddenly, clenching down so hard on Jason that somewhere under all the pleasure Jason takes a second to worry that Dick’s hurt himself. Jason lets go of one hip and trails his finger through the mess of cum on Dick’s abs, lifting it to Dick’s mouth. He wants to paint it across Dick’s red and bitten lips, but Dick comes out of his post-orgasmic haze in time to open his lips and suck that finger deep into his mouth, flicking his tongue around it. It’s enough to make Jason come with a quiet yell too.

“Damn...” Dick says, still clenching around Jason as he leans back from where he’d slumped over Dick. “I think you outrode me. That’s annoying. I want a rematch.”

“Seriously?” Jason stares at him. “You just can’t get enough, can you, Pretty Boy.” Not that Jason isn’t interested in another go, but he does need to catch his breath before going again.

“Yes, seriously. I can ride better than that. I’m going to prove it.” Dick juts his chin out, as if daring Jason to argue with him.

“I know you can, baby.” Jason smirks, kissing the pout off Dick’s face. “But you want a rematch? Then we’re upping the stakes.”

“What? Pride’s not enough for you? What do you want? A pound of flesh?” Dick raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Tell you what, you outride me, and I’ll... think of something _real nice_ to give you.” Jason leers, and Dick barely stifles a laugh.

“And here was I thinking you just did!” Dick winds his arms around Jason’s neck and lets his fingers tangle in Jason’s hair, while Jason grins wolfishly at the compliment. Maybe he’ll let Dick ride him more often if it gets him post fuck talk like this.

“And if I outride you again, you think about coming home with me. Not to join the M.C. Just to stay a couple of nights.” Jason continues, trying to sound casual, even though he really wants that.

“You meant that?” Dick looks surprised. “It wasn’t sex talk?” Dick’s surprise fades into a look of intrigue. Jason hopes that means he’s not as opposed as Jason thought he’d be.

“Do I wanna be able to call you my boy to anyone I talk to? Yeah, yeah I do.” Jason says steadily.

“OK. You win, I go home with you on a trial basis. I win, and you come up with something nicer for me than your cock.” Dick smiles, and Jason thinks that whatever the outcome, either way he’s won.


End file.
